are depressing yearbooks of temporary friendships.
Drunk party armies of hook ups I knew hardly
Or beautiful thumbnails of relationships I never started
with all the pretty faces.
Like headed on a J date with Christian Mingle
awkward like duck face eating Pringles.
Jumping through hoops to meet a girl with bengals
sporting pumps, lip liner, and trendsetting three C sections
fear of rejection headed in the complete other direction
I want to take you out for pizza and forty-ounces
dressing extra sharp
styling denim jacket plus frilly blouse
bring my stripper girlfriend to dinner
at my friends’ families’ house.